Knockwood
by Chaotik Lord
Summary: The tale of a young wizard attending an American school, continuing his magical education at this institution through a collegiate level. Follow his journey into the dark and mysterious and his life with his fellow students.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I own nothing . . . So this story is tied to a roleplay site, knockwoodschool dot proboards98 dot com. The characters are inspired by the members in part . . .and I apologize for the first chapter or two being in present tense; I didn't feel like editing into past tense at this time but it ceases to be so shortly.**

**Want to read about Ian's arrival? Read Orychle's Knockwood story . . . he also started posting mine but since I have my own account I'm taking it over until he gets a chance to delete. Enjoy! Feel free to join the site as well. Great people, great times. **

Ian still feels quite nervous as he is led to his dorms. He listens to the fractured cries of the seagulls as the Wolfsbane prefect takes them across the grounds. To his left, the sun cut diamonds across the water, and streaks of Apollo pierced through the low-lying grey haze at the horizon. One cloud, silvery in the center but tinged gold with the light of sunset, caught his attention. He stared at it in heavy thought, until he stumbled over a loose rock. Ian growls, shaking himself out of a daze, feeling as though he had been soaring off into those clouds.

"Oops," Ian said sheepishly, as a beautiful girl with dark green eyes stares at him. "Fucking gravity." He grins at her, catching the sun glinting off of the yellow and blue flecks around her eyes. He was amazed by how like the sunset over the water they were. Her deep brown hair had streaks of red and gold, and her features were perfect. "Yes, well. I'm Ian-Ian Flanagan. And you are?" He flashed her a calculated smile, his eyes turning fully green before flecks of grey faded back in. A moment of pleasure, of fervent desire, fading into uncertainty and nervousness.

She pondered him for a moment as they walked, then gave him a small smile. "I'm Killy Brooks," she said. Ian ran the name through his head-yes, Brooks, he had heard that family name. So she was a pureblood too.

There wasn't much he could ask her at this point. He couldn't ask her how she was finding Knockwood so far-really, it was too soon to start asking penetrating questions about her life-what did that leave him? How was the boat ride over? He caught her gaze again. "How do you feel about being sorted into Wolfsbane. Were you pleased?" He keptin stride with her, walking more slowly so his long-legged steps did not overtake her.

Killy gave that small smile again, but obviously couldn't help letting it grow larger. "I never had any doubt. Still, it was a relief," she confessed. "Imagine being sorted into Kinrick!"

Ian laughed scornfully. "The postal house?" He was referring to the otters surrounding the isle that delivered mail by sea. "Can you imagine the shame? Of course, most of them don't even have the decency to be embarrassed by their house."

The girl laughed, and Ian's spine tingled at the sound. "I hear Aeridorn's not so bad, though," she said, looking at him.

Ian cocked his head. Should he tell her the option he had been given? He decided against it for the moment. "My brother was sorted into Aeridorn. They can't be all bad, we've always shared a lot in common." He shuffled along, continuing to cast looks at Killy. They began to talk a little more-of mundane things, of their families, of the classes they had signed up to take-Killy was also in Curses, Hexes and Dark Rituals. They continued down this line of conversation briefly until they crested a small hill and came upon the Wolfsbane Dormitory.

His jaw dropped in shock. In the direct light of the sunset, he could see the black building was actually the darkest green, and the crimson streaks through the stone were accented by those in shades of dark purple, among other colors he couldn't quite identify. But most prominent was the sense of blood-red streaks across night-black darkness. "But - that had to be - how did they ever find so much?" he asked in a whisper.

"What?" said Killy, confused. She was also looking at the dormitory in awe.

Ian shook his head. "That's bloodstone-but where did they find so much? It's extremely rare, extremely expensive, and extremely fragile. I suppose it's enchanted not to break, but it's still quite pricey." He marveled at it a few moments longer.

"Bloodstone?" Killy said, interrupting his thoughts. "What a name . . . ." She looked hungrily at the building.

"It's also known as Heliotrope, because it reflects the sun. It helps one become more knowledgeable in the ways of the world, and increases talent, and magic in general. It's very, very powerful." He stared again, eyes green and bright as he took in the ominous splendor of Wolfsbane.

Killy looked at him, then back at their home. "Wow," she said simply. "It's glorious."

"Perfect," Ian agreed quietly, and he took a deep breath as they were led inside, all his doubts and fears about choosing Wolfsbane over Aeridorn forgotten in the marvelous shadow of the darkest of houses.

The prefects led them into a large, low-celinged room, a decadent décor of polished oak accented with dark cherry. Overstuffed sofas and high-backed armchairs were scattered around antique end tables and squat coffee tables, many of which were piled with yellowed books bound in dark leather. Ian was startled by the whole feel, which was much like a library. _I wouldn't have expected it of Wolfsbane_, Ian thought in mingled surprise and pleasure. He eyed the built-in bookshelves. There were many heavy tomes, yes, but also a series of wicked objects, including some travesties of skulls and twisted artifacts he couldn't quite identify. Every few feet, a dark-eyed portrait of an imposing witch or wizard was hung. Most merely gazed critically at the newest batch of Wolfsbane followers, but some had more appraising, hawkish gazes.

"That one doesn't look too shabby," drawled one graying portrait in a heavy Old-Southern accent. Ian glanced at the portrait nervously. He took in a little more of the room. From the center, a darkened hallway stretched further back into the building, lit by weak and watery sconces, whose light illuminated nothing more than their own wall mounts. To the right, a wide staircase flowed directly upwards, and to the left, another hallway, this one wide and grand, jutted a short way eastwards. Two archways framed the entryway, and he felt as shiver as he passed beneath them, as though he had truly passed into another world.

The Wolfsbane prefect in the lead walked over to the huge fireplace along the northern wall, and stepped up onto the hearth. "Quiet, everyone-may I have your attention?" The freshest member of the house turned towards him with different expressions. Some looked nervous, some excited, and others just exhausted from the travels of the day. "Welcome to Knockwood's finest house. I am hoping that all of you will continue in our fine traditions, bringing honor and renown to the talents of our house. My name is Orpheus, and I am a fifth year." Ian looked at him. He certainly radiated adulthood, being of full legal age was not the sum of it. "I am one of your prefects." And Ian listened with halfhearted interest as Orpheus explained the layout of the dormitory and the rules for the building, including restrictions on the coed hallway, which was the darkened corridor in front of him, and rules regarding the boys and girls floors, house etiquette, and social hours. Orpheus then finished with a bombastic and verbose addendum about the proud tradition of Wendigo Wolfsbane, and the history of their "impeachable cohorts." Just as Ian thought he would die with boredom, stifling yet another yawn, Orpheus turned the floor over to a cluster of older students. "These boys and girls will lead you to your rooms, which you will remain in for the duration of your education here, unless, of course, you find reason to move to the coed hallway. After you settle in, feel free to return to the lounge or roam the grounds until curfew. I bid you all good night."

Ian waited until his name was called, then sauntered over to the short young man who had called for him. He stood with two other boys, waiting until the leader had gathered all members of his group.

One young man in particular caught his interest; he was a blond-haired man of average height, with the elegant features of another pureblood. "Hello," Ian said cautiously.

The boy looked back at him with a similar degree of wariness. "Hello, there," he echoed in a low tone. "I'm Tyler." And he did not offer his hand just yet.

"Ian. Ian Flanagan," he responded. "I suppose we must have rooms near each other-maybe even shared."

Tyler just looked ahead and nodded. "I guess we might, at that," he said slowly. Then he warmed a little, as though these careful sparks had melted a thin, icy exterior. "What's your story?" he asks.

Ian is surprised by such a direct question, but reconsiders his surprise when he realizes there isn't much point in beating around the bush. "Well, I'm delighted to be in Wolfsbane, though my brother was sorted into Aeridorn. I do love my books, though, so that's something he and I have in common." And he smiles at Tyler, suggesting he has revealed some telling secret. "In my spare time, I enjoy surfing, and art. Sometimes I write. You?"

"About the same," Tyler says noncommittally. Just then, the final member of their group heads over, and the boy in charge leads them up the large staircase, down a hallway, through a door and into a stairwell, and up a spiral staircase. They exit the stairwell, and find a maze of narrow corridors.

"Boys' floor," announces the young man. "My name is Gerald Brink, feel free to talk to me if you need anything." He motions them down one hallway, then begins pointing out rooms. "Stefan Belugi-here." They round a corner. "Thelius Phaeron and Ulysses McDane-in here." They continue on. "Tyler Dias-in here." Without going any further, he points to his left. "Ian Flanagan? Yes? You're in here. If you need anything else, ask your roommates." And Gerald disappears into the claustrophobic darkness.

Ian stares at the door. It is heavy, dark wood, with two perpendicular iron bands spaced near the upper and lower borders of the door. A large iron keyhole right above the doorknob is fitted with a brass key. Ian tries to turn the key, but finds it incredibly resistant. He glances over his shoulder; he sees Tyler remove a similar key from a like keyhole. Ian looks back to his own door, does the same. The key feels hot in his hand, as though someone has thrown it into a brazier. He gasps as his name appears in brass on the door, directly beneath two others. "Ian Flanagan, 1st Year." Directly above his name are two others, reading "Jake Harmonae, 4th Year," and "Malakai Whitefeather, 4th Year." Ian squints at the door, trying the handle, which gave the little click indicative of being locked. He shrugs, then puts his key in the lock. This time, it slips in and turns without resistance.

"Huh," Ian says, turning the knob again with no resistance. As he opens the door, he catches Tyler watching him and quickly moving to attempt the same thing. He laughs a little, silently, and slips into his room, shutting the door behind him.

The room was neither as dark nor as empty as Ian expected. He only sees to beds in front of him, one a single bed, and one a loft with a desk and chair beneath it. A second desk and chair are crammed against a corner wall, and a nightstand is against the bed on the floor. All of the furniture is dark wood, and both beds are hung with blood red velvet curtains. Both are occupied. He looks at the two older boys in confusion.

"Oh, look, it's the new meat," the boy on the loft bed remarks, only half serious. He clambers down from his perch, grinning. "I'm Jake." Jake is tall, with dark golden hair the color of ripe wheat, and moss-green eyes.

Ian grins at Jake, holding out a hand. "Charmed. So, you must be Malakai Whitefeather?" he asks the other boy, who is staring at him over a sketchpad, charcoal still in hand. Malakai is darker-skinned, with a dark sheen of black hair, and deep brown eyes, His features are chiseled and haunting, and his smoldering stare almost spellbinding.

"Yes, I'm Malakai," says the young man in a rich baritone. "Welcome to our room." He motions to Ian's right. "That's your alcove. Jake and I have shared this space for three whole years now, and we figured we'd stay where we belong. Go ahead-it's a fortunate space."

Ian steps forward and peers around a corner. A single bed sits beneath a dark window, with a nightsand, and against a wall like a tiny hallway between his small area and the main part of the room, there is his own desk and chair. "Privacy!" he says aloud, not fully able to contain his glee.

"Yeah, Bruce graduated last year," Jake explains, and opens a door in the wall. "We still share a closet and bookshelf, and some odds and ends. But I think you'll be happy over in your own private corner."

Ian walks over to the bed. His trunk is already set out, and he begins to unpack his things. He hangs his clothing in the back of the closet, lamenting this small misery, and puts some of his books on the shelf. He begins unpacking art supplies onto the desk, and finally tires of this mundane activity for the moment. Ian decides to head down to the common room. "I'm going to the lounge. Want to go?" he asks his roommates.

Jake nods and grins at him. "Sure, why not? We'd probably be down there anyway, except we were supposed to wait here. Make sure you made it into the room okay and all." He beckons to Malakai, who slams his sketchpad shut and tucks it under his arm. Together, the three roommates walk back down the staircases into the lounge.

This time, there are far more students down here. Ian is shocked to see any number of them engaged in sketching, painting, or writing. He hadn't expected the Wolfsbanes to be such an artistic bunch. Then again, he himself took great pleasure in aesthetic pursuits.

Among the students engaged in this are Tyler, and Killy. He sees her, lounging on a plump sofa with a notebook, chewing thoughtfully on a quill and gazing off with a captivated aura. One leg is tucked beneath her, and one is stretched out in a most striking fashion. Every so often, she would write something down. Ian slides onto the couch beside her.

She glances at him from underneath long lashes, but continues to write. He smiles at her, then begins to search for his pad and his paints. He pulls out the set of multicolored pigments and sets them on the coffee table in front of him, but is unable to find a pad.

"Here," says Malakai, grabbing a sketchbook off a stack on one table and tossing it to him. Ian catches it and takes a look. It's quality paper, well-suited for either sketching or painting. "You'd be surprised at the number of Wolfsbanes who need these. This is a public stack-the house elves keep them stocked. Along with the paints, quills, and pastels on that shelf," Malakai finishes, pointing to one built-in bookshelf with a series of drawers."

"Thanks," Ian says, and opens the pad. Instead of beginning with his paints, he took out a quill and began sketching the girls sprawled lazily on the other side of the couch. He watches the lines and curves forming swiftly on the paper with a certain pleasure and pride.

He sees Killy glancing over at his efforts. As Ian must continually look at her to catch her form and her nuances, it is not surprising that she noticed him. She smiles quizzically. "What are you doing?" she asks, trying to steal a glance at his pad.

Ian looks back down at the paper. "Drawing the most beautiful thing I can see," he answers, intentionally not looking at her. She starts, then continues with her own work. Ian keeps going, and soon enough, there eyes meet as he appraises her again.

"You're really drawing me?" she asks. "I'm the most beautiful thing?"

"Yup," Ian answers again. She is waiting expectantly, so he yields and flips the pad around. Killy gasps.

"That's me," she comments with wonder. "It's so perfect!"

"What are you working on?" he queries. Killy blushes a little.

"I'm writing a song."

Ian smiles. "Really? That's so cool." He scratches on his paper a few more times, then reaches for the paints. He opens a green, dips a brush in it, and tackles the daunting task of her eyes. Ian's efforts are not so quick now; this part requires careful measurement and consideration. Killy has entirely stopped writing her songs, and is now enraptured by Ian's painting. He allows himself to stare deeply into her eyes, locking gazes, peering where he has no real business looking. When Killy's breathing has become harsh and quick, he nonchalantly breaks the stare, mixes a gorgeous blue, and adds a few accents to the painting, to her eyes.

She is still staring, leaning forward, and he smirks sideways at her. Ian sets the brushes down on the table and leans back against the sofa. She is waiting there, lips slightly parted, looking at Ian with fascination.

"Do you like it so far?" asks Ian, motioning to the pad.

"It's wonderful," she tells him. "Do you always paint like that?"

He shakes his head a little sadly. "No, only when I see something that truly captivates and inspires me." And he takes the liberty of touching her face, of stroking her hair. For a moment longer, she is frozen, then Killy leans in until they are mere centimeters apart.

"Can you feel me?" she asks.

Ian blushes furiously, his face matching his hair. _What does that mean?_ he wonders. "Yes!" he answers hungrily, and takes her close, pulling that perfect body close to him and kissing her softly on the lips.

Shocked at first, Killy jerks back. Her jaw is set with anger momentarily. _ Her response to fear and uncertainty_? Ian wonders. He eases back himself, looking apologetic. At the same time, he exudes an air of hurt. "I'm sorry," he says to her, "I just couldn't help but touch your perfection." He hopes she will continue to take his bait.

She looks down at her hands, biting her lip. "You're awfully forward."

Ian chuckles. "Of course. I see something I want and I go for it. Isn't that the Wolfsbane way?" He stretches again, arm moving towards her. He'll have this diamond if it takes all night. So Ian backs off and returns to painting, a graceful and seductive dance of social artistry.

Killy, of course, cannot help but watch him, still attempting to steal glances at his work. Ian turns the pad towards himself protectively, like a mother shielding her child, working feverishly all the same. Finally, Killy can stand it no longer.

"Let me see!" she begs.

Ian doesn't take his eyes off his paper. "Kiss me," he says.

"What? No!"

"Fine." He mixes another color, a rich yellow-gold like bleached sunflowers, and makes quick, delicate brushstrokes.

Killy is tense now, curiosity winding her up. "Come on, Ian, let me have a look."

"All right. Just as soon as you kiss me."

"It's not fair!"

"Neither is life." He takes a deep breath, gripping the pad slightly as though he will flip it towards her. She gasps softly with anticipation. In a cruel twist, he holds his pose a moment longer, then continues to paint in hidden strokes.

"Fine!" Killy says in frustration. "Fine, fine, fine!" She leans over him, grabbing his face, and parting her lips. Just as Ian relaxes his grip to plunge into her mouth, Killy laughs triumphantly, pulls her hands away, and snatches the pad from Ian. He gapes at her while she scans his efforts.

_Total Wolfsbane_, Ian thinks with admiration and increasing desire. Her impromptu trickery only intensifies his will to have her. _My, gods, but isn't she amazing! _Ian drunk her in, licking his lips as she touched the outside of the pad, wanting to stroke the forms in front of her, resisting only because she knew it would damage the painting.

"This is amazing, Ian."

"Do you think so?" he asks, injecting an air of insecurity and doubt into his voice.

"Of course it's incredible. Don't you know that?" she asks, looking at Ian in disbelief.

_Of course I do, Killy dear_. "Then what don't you like about me?"

Killy ponders this briefly, then laughs. "Nothing, really. There's nothing wrong with you." She exhales, then smiles, a bittersweet affair.

"Kiss me, Killy," he says, eyes an odd mixture of green and chrome.

The girl puts her hands between her knees. "Okay, Ian. But I don't come cheap."

"You're priceless," he agrees in all seriousness, joining with her, tasting her lips, tasting the sweet warmth of her breath, feeling the hard curves of her body in his hands. From that point on, it was all an ecstatic blur. He was heedless of Tyler's hard stares, heedless of jealous snickering, and heedless of the hours as they flew by. Ian only knew, as he stumbled up to his dorm room in throbbing exhaustion, that he had found the proper soul to accompany him into his immortal conquest. It never occurred to him to wonder when he began to think in such terms. Perhaps it was merely the heavy history of Wolfsbane luring another spirit into the realm of imagination and glory.

Ian woke around three in the morning, craving a cigarette. He realized nobody had mentioned whether he could smoke inside, so he made his way down the hallways, down the stairs, to just outside of the front door. From the west, to his left, Ian heard the raucous sounds of partying. He was sleepy, and couldn't quite figure it out-who was it in the west? He stared up at the stars, suddenly feeling very lonely. He missed his brother. Orychle had always been right there when Ian needed him, always just a few steps away, always ready to fling the door open and listen. With a faint hope, he headed over west, cresting the hill and seeing not the symbol of an owl-though he knew better, loud Aeridorns?-but that of the Otter.

He made his way down the hill anyway, stumbling a little on the dewey grass that blanketed the slope, and frowned at the scene.

"Welcome!" said a warm voice from behind him. Ian turned around, startled, to find one of his year mates standing behind him. His blond hair and warm eyes spoke confidence, flickering in the light of the Tiki torches. Ian could not see himself, but he knew from Brandon's harder assessment of the boy in front of him that the low firelight gave him darkened shadows, his red hair, fine features, and green-grey eyes combining to make him look very foxlike indeed, and gave others cause to stop and shiver. But then Ian smiled.

"Why, hello, Brandon, I remember you from the sorting." Ian shook his hand. "What's happening here? It's so late, and you seem to be very boisterous and . . ." he peered through the front door of their house, which was propped open, "and there are quite a few Everards in there, along with a few strays."

"Yeah, we're having a party! Beginning of a new year, sort of a welcome for the new students, you know? Get to know everyone's fun side, you know? It loosens everyone up, breaks the ice. Come on in. You're invited too! Everyone is, even Wolfsbanes," he said cheerily, with a wink.

Ian was rather tired, but the party looked like fun. He made is way through the throng of students in front of the entryway and went inside.

"Have a beer," said one young Everard, handing him a drink in a red plastic cup.

Ian raised an eyebrow. "Butterbeer? Doesn't seem the drink for a wild party."

"No!" laughed the Everard. "Muggle beer. Go on, it's good!"

Ian took a swig. It was all right, and he downed the drink. The Everard reached for his wand and filled Ian's glass. When Ian looked surprised at this,the boy grinned.

"Not everything about it's Muggle," he said with another laugh. "I'm Frenzeil." He had slightly wide-set hazel eyes, and a cheeky grin. His shoulder-length hair was a cross between brown and gold, and it was, all together, a not unattractive package. "Come on in here, have a seat." And Frenzeil led Ian into an area set with a few couches in front of a cheery blue fire. Ian stared at the cerulean flames with interest.

"Hello," said one girl. "A Wolfsbane, huh? Well, that's all well and good. Come sit by the fire!" Ian looked at the girl, she was wearing a visor with the Everard crest on the front. She had on a long-sleeved green shirt, and her green eyes sparkled cheerily by the complementary flames. The turquoise cast to the room made it difficult to determine the color of her hair, but Ian suspected it was somewhere in the red range.

"Can't say as we've met," Ian said. "I'm Ian-"

"Ian Flanagan, yes" she cut in, "I saw you get sorted. "This is Roxanne, and Candy, and Brandon, and that's Louis, and she's Colba, and the last one there is Yuri." the girl finished by pointing at an older Aeridorn who smiled softly.

"And you?" Ian said, with his officially patented trademark smile, one that laughed at the obvious being seen for the first time, the one he used when irony awoke.

"Oh, I'm Sharie. Sharie Morse." She raised her glass, and everyone around did the same. "To Ian!"

Ian chuckled as he took another sip of his beer. Sharie grinned at him. "We haven't seen too many new Wolfsbanes at this party. What's your story?"

He shook his head. "Don't have one. You?"

Sharie giggled. "I'm an Aeridorn, though the castle told me I could be in here if I wanted. I figured I'd come down here and get to know everyone. Everards are told about the party out right. I guess with us and the Wolfsbanes, it's up to other members who know about it to let you know. How did you find us?"

"Nic fit. And you were noisy," Ian explained, using the cup as a cover to check out what Frenzeil was doing. He had pulled out a guitar and was strumming a melody for the benefit of the crowd. Ian played a little himself, and wanted to ask Frenzeil about that, but Sharie hadn't quite finished with him just yet.

"So, you're a smoker? You know, that's bad for your Quidditch. Do you play? I'm a seeker." She was pretty bouncy for an Aeridorn, Ian decided.

"Uh, yes, I do play. I may not play right now, though." He sighed. "I prefer broom racing, anyhow."

Her eyes went big. "That sounds like fun, too. How do you get into that?"

"Grow up with a brother within months of your age," he answered with a laugh. "See what you do first-a seven person game, or something that works with two people." He grins. "Boys are very competitive. Foot race, broom race, wrestling, dueling-it's anticipated if not expected."

"You have a brother your own age? Does he go to school here?" She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, then gasps in delight. Ian sees her sharp Aeridorn mind working. "Of course! How could I not see the resemblance! Orychle's your brother, isn't he?"

"Yeah he is," Ian said. "No surprise he went into Aeridorn. It was all he could talk about before we got here-the silver wisdom of Athena."

A loud, drawn out cheer of "GOOOO, KIN, KIN, KIN-ER-RICK!" went up around them. Several of the non-Kinrick students joined in for good measure. Ian tried hard not to screw of his face and cover his ears, and was pleased to find himself succeed.

"This party gets a little loud," Frenzeil yelled to him apologetically. Ian could see that. "Oh-watch out!"

Ian ducked as a drunken Everard tumbled over the back of the couch, just narrowly missing her head by the table. "Careful!" Ian says, "Are you all right?"

She blinks her sparkling blue eyes a few times, her halo of light brown hair pillowing her head. "I think so. Can you help me up?" She closes her eyes for the moment.

Sharie moves over to her in concern, slipping her hands underneath the girl's shoulders and leveraging her weight to flip her up. "Are you okay?"

The girl blinks a few times, then grins. "Fan-frigging-tastic. I just a leeetle tipsy," she confesses. "I'm Candy," she explains to the group.

"Yeah, sure," Ian says, rolling his eyes. "Um, aren't any of you in her house? Can't you take her home? I think she's had enough tonight," he says.

Candy sways a little on the couch, then stares furiously at Ian. "I do that sort of thing all the time! It has nothing to do with the alcohol. I really never pay attention to what I'm doing." She looks mad, her jaw set in a stubborn line. "And it isn't really your business, either, _Wolfsbane_."

Ian sighs. "My name is Ian, Candy, and I did you quite a few courtesies when I called you nothing derogatory; I expect the same respect. So please don't give me shit," he says coldly, the birth of icy fury in his tone. He cocks his head, calming down, and smiles. "But, thank you for the compliment; I am a Wolfsbane and proud of it."

"All right, then," Candy said agreeably. "So, Wolfsbane? Your house is kind of creepy. I like our house; it's strong and firm and comfortable. Did you know Everard was the last of the house founders to die? Most of the people are really cool. There's a couple of stuck up goody two shoes, but I'm guessing they're cool once you get to know them. I like most people. How about you?" She doesn't wait long enough for Ian to answer. "Anyway, I'm going out for Quidditch when they start tryouts. I'm hoping to get seeker. I think I'd make a good seeker, I'm pretty quick. Sharp eyes too. Both of those are absolutely necessary. Hey, did you ever want-"

Ian rubbed his temple. His exhaustion, which had just started to abate, was quickly returning, accompanied by the beginnings of a wicked headache. "Excuse me," he says, standing up and looking for Frenzeil, who is nowhere to be found. He weaves his way through the common areas, looking for the young Kinrick, but has no luck. He excuses himself into the dark night, intent this time on sleeping.

Footsteps thunder out towards him. "It's Sharie, wait up!" he hears from behind him.

Ian turns, glaring at her. "What is it? I'm tired."

"Don't be mad at me because Candy irritated you," she says, looking hurt and a little mad. "I just wanted to make sure you're all right. You dashed out of there so quickly."

He sighs, running his hands through his hair, trying to brush it back. It had gotten a little long, and he really should get around to cutting it. "I'm sorry. I'm just exhausted, that's all. I can't deal with really hyper people when I'm not. So, why did you follow me out, anyway?"

Sharie smiled. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay. You left so abruptly."

He gives her a hard look. ""I'm fine. Thanks anyway." He turns around and starts walking back. "Say hi to my brother for me, will you?"

When Ian approached the entrance to the Wolfsbane dormitory, he found a girls sitting outside on the stoop, smoking a cigarette. She had black hair, and though she was pale, her skin shone like polished pearl in the moonlight, as though her aspect drank to refreshment in the rare night of the light alone. He sat next to the girl and lit a cigarette himself, taking a drag. She turns to him, staring coldly. Her lips are painted blood red. Ian doesn't say anything, and she continues to stare. A cold shiver runs down Ian's back, as though someone has dropped a chunk of ice into his shirt.

"Ian," he offers, staring at those cool blue eyes.

"Libby," she answers.

He chews on his cigarette, trying to figure her out. They sit through their cigarettes in silence, each obviously attempting a covert analysis of the other's character, essence, motives. She is lounging backwards, leaning against a planter. He finishes his cigarette, reaches over her, and grinds it out in the ficus. "See you later," he says, standing up to go inside.

"Later," she agrees nonchalantly, and Ian returns to his dorm, ready for some much needed sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mmffmgh," Ian groans when Malakai shakes him awake. He stretches, flipping over, and looks out the little window by his bed. "What?" he says, blinking sleepily. "It's still dark out. I'm going back to sleep."

Malakai shoves a book in Ian's face. He recognizes it, and sits up further. "Where did you get that?" he demands.

The older boy says dryly, "It was on your desk. 'The History and Essence of Adanuhdo Asadudi: The Caves of Knockwood Isle.' Very interesting choice, don't you think? This particular history covers our knowledge of the cave as well as that of the modern wizarding world. Only a very serious reader would choose this book." Malakai flips it open, thumbing through the pages. "You could have picked up any number of books; why this one? Thousand-year-old tales and teachings, and a number of legendary propositions." He sits on the edge of Ian's bed. "What's your interest in the cave?"

Ian is only half awake, but he knows better than to start spilling information. "Academic," he answers, laying back down and closing his eyes. "If you don't mind . . ."

"I do mind!" snaps Malakai, throwing the blankets aside. "This is not an academic book. This is a serious book, a dark book. If you are, as I expect you might be, planning on feeding your interest beyond the literary level, then I hope you are ready to listen to words of wisdom." His dark eyes shine like smoldering coals. "Are you ready?"

Ian groans, sits up again. "Okay, Malakai. What's your angle?"

"That's better," Malakai said. "You are not the only one interested in the power of that cave. You can choose cohorts, or competition. Either way, I insist you understand what you are fucking with."

"That's fine, Malakai, but did you have to wake me up in the early hours before sunrise?"

"It's not that early, Ian, look out the window."

Ian feels this might just be an excuse to get him out of bed, but he pulls himself out of bed and crouches down by the window. Malakai was right; the window faced westward, where the sky was darkest, but on the far edges of the horizon he could see the hopeful blue of sunrise. Still, Ian knew that he had barely had any rest. "I'm just so tired," he groans.

"You're young, honey, you'll get over it. Get dressed. You're coming with me," Malakai says shortly, and leaves Ian's little alcove, obviously expecting full obedience.

Ian grumbles to himself as he gets up, pulling on a pair of dark blue, loose-fitting jeans, a dark gray A-shirt with a black and red symbol embroidered over the breast, and a well-cut light leather jacket, for the morning this young is usually chill. He catches a glimpse of his red hair in the mirror, and grabs a brush to fix it.

"Let's get going, Betty," Malakai snaps, throwing open the dorm room door and motioning him out. Jake mumbles softly in protest, still asleep.

Malakai puts his finger over his lips, which to Ian seemed entirely unnecessary. They make their way down the stairs, and out through the common room, where a few late-nighter and early morning risers struggle to stay awake, finishing summer schoolwork apparently assigned by sadistic professors who do not feel that students deserve a three-month break stress-free. The sun has just crested over the hilltops, and the sky is now filled with light. Ian is surprised at how bright it is, remembering the darkness through his window, until his groggy mind realizes that his window faces west. Even in this warm climate, the morning air has a chill bite to it, and dew dampens the grass beneath their feet as they trudge across the grounds. There are no more joyous noises from Kinrick.

Malakai leads him to Aeridorn, a great moonstone structure to the east. He pulls out his wand, puts it to his lips thoughtfully, and raps three or four times on the great doors leading into the entrance. Ian almost mutters a protest, but in a few minutes, a young Aeridorn emerges. He has dark golden hair, and green eyes. Malakai nods in greeting, and turns to Ian.

"Specific knocking spell. This is Jade." The Aeridorn nods to Ian, and looks with expectation at Malakai. "We have a young one with potential," Malakai explains to the the Aeridorn.

Jade looks appraisingly at Ian. "And we're taking this one now?" he drawls, raising an eyebrow. He stifles a yawn with one lazy, languid movement of his hand.

Malakai barks shortly, "Unless you want me to leave him to his own devices."

Jakes shakes his head. "Just let me grab a light jacket." He turns about, squints up at a window, and mouths words without actually speaking. A blue windbreaker flies down to him, lined and accented in Aeridorn silver. He flips in onto himself and stretches. "Ready."

Ian falls back at little at the threatening looks the older boys give him, and he watches them talk amongst themselves. Their tones are low and make Ian just a little nervous, as does their descent down a northern bluff, directly opposite the Forbidden cave. Jade dashes behind a rock, and unties a little dinghy moored in a tidal pool behind the stones. He steadies the boat while Malakai steps in gracefully. Ian sort of clambers in, but it's obvious the older Wolfsbane has done this many times before.

Ian expects the boat to move on its own, by the power of magic, but he's surprised to see Jade rowing them across. "Why-?" he begins.

Malakai cuts him off in a low voice. "Because we want to be careful with the magic we use this close to the cave." He grips the sides of the boat, rocking gently as they scrape across the swell, Jade's rhythmic stroking propelling them across the channel. Ian could sense the dark energy now, growing around him, fighting to get within him . . .he stared at his hands, they were shaking.

Malakai noticed him. "You'll get used to it. The energy . . .it can be a little intense at first."

Within a few minutes, they had docked the boat on the forbidden isle. Jade ran a rope around a wooden post, and they clambered up a stone-studded dune. The isle was all rock, frosted here and there with sand, tossed like dice upon a table. The beach grasses here looked twisted and mutated, a cold mockery of what grew on Knockwood Isle. Ian took a deep breath. He had been cold, but the sun was warming the air quickly, a sticky humidity already rising off the water, and he reached for his coat. Jade shook his head warningly.

"You'll be needin' that, when we get inside," he warned Ian. The entrance to the cave squatted black across the ground. Ian felt a little dizzy as he approached it, and stumbled as his knees barely gave way.

Jake turned about and caught him, then gripped him by the shoulders to look into his eyes. "This one's conflicted of heart," he said to Malakai in alarm. "And you would have me bring him here already?" He glared at the Wolfsbane.

"No," Malakai insisted, "he is young yet. I assure you his heart will grow into this. Can't you feel it? The weights are balanced in the darker direction, and this experience alone . . ."

"Hush," Jade snapped. "I think we have been followed." He narrowed his eyes across the water. "I don't see . . ."

Ian wriggled free of Jade's iron grip. He did hear the noise of someone attempting to climb the rocks in silence. Jade walks over to the hill, a concerned look upon his face. "Malakai . . ."

Malakai looked at Ian. "Stay right here, young one."

"I wasn't going anywhere . . ." Ian trailed off. Jade had reached over the edge of the crag, and gripped someone below, whose muffled shouts of "Let me go!" brought Malakai's assistance. They heaved the culprit up, above the rocks, and Ian saw the platinum blood hair, gasped sharply in recognition.

"Who are you?" Jade demanded. "What is your purpose here?"

The boy shivered, more in fear than anything, as day had brought heat upon them, but he sneered at the Aeridorn. "What is yours?"

"That's Tyler Dias," Ian said quickly. "He's in my year-and one room away from me; he must have followed us here."

Malakai frowned at Tyler. "Indeed, he is newly of my house." But he shoved the boy roughly, a direct challenge. "Why are you here?"

Tyler stood in defiance. "I have as much right as you," he said coldly, "and I only wondered what you were up to, sneaking about in the morning."

Malakai bit his tongue through his lips and hissed, "You mean you wanted what part of any enterprise you could have. Well, you have found yourself involved now, and there is no turning back. Ian came by choice, but you have poked where you don't belong, and this road now chooses you."

"What are you talking about?" asked Tyler, but the two older boys grabbed his arms and shoved him in front of them. Tyler cast an evil look over his shoulder at them, but made no attempt to get away.

The cave soon enough became their whole field of vision, and Jake and Malakai grabbed him by the coat to prevent him from entering.

"You would enter without proper dues?" Jade said. "You would pay, too, and pay dearly." He stared into the cave. "We must wait until invited."

"So we're going to stand here all day?" Tyler says. "What's in there, anyway?"

A loud, rushing wind seemed to blow out of the cave, and Ian would have sworn it brought a dark haze. _That's impossible-must be the passing of clouds over the sun_, he thought. But he stepped back anyway.

"Be still," Malakai warned. "The time is near." He looked at Tyler, who had opened his mouth again. "Silence!"

The air became icy, and Ian wass relieved that that they had insisted he keep his coat. Malakai looked at Jade. With a sudden release of pressure, the temperature spiked again.

"We may enter," Malakai said, and tapped the two boys forward. He removed four candles from his robes, and Jade pulled out a lighter, giving each one a tiny, flickering flame. "No spells. Understand? Not until you know what is safe, and there is much that isn't."

"Stay close," Jade cautioned them, and they sought the darkness.

Not even five feet into the cave, Ian doubled over in pain, his stomach twisting within him. He moaned a little, and Malakai bent over in concern. "Are you all right?" He pushed back Ian's hair to look at his eyes, which were filled with tears he was trying to hold back. Tyler looked at this scornfully.

"I don't know," Ian gasped, in between sharp gasps.

Malakai and Jade exchanged a glance, and Jade said, "Wait here." They made sure Ian made it safely to a rock, still clutching his candle, and went off into the darkness with Tyler, the triad of flames gradually disappearing around a bend. Ian shuddered in the cold, but the pain gradually subsided.

His head came up sharply. He thought he heard a shriek from afar, and Ian took off, cautiously following the source of the sound. Was Tyler in trouble? Were they punishing Tyler for his transgressions? His steps quickened as he wove his way around stalactites, through darkened chambers. Ian didn't hear any further noises at all, and he became concerned.

A flash of movement from behind him caught his eye; he though he saw a dark figure disappear into the wall of the chamber. He looked around in confusion. Ian was well aware of his own movements. Hadn't he come from the left? Where was the natural arch time had carved? All he could see was solid rock. He took a few tentative steps toward the rock, reaching out his hand.

A low, harmonic voice resonated from behind him. "Why do you seek to escape my lair?"

Ian turned, scrabbling for his wand in alarm, and dropping his candle in the process. The darkness was more intense than any he had ever seen; it seemed there was too much of it for the cave to hold, and the blackness began to fill him instead. His lungs felt tight and stiff. The breath in his lungs kept squeezing out. It was almost terrifying.

A series of candles, apparently mounted into little niches in the stone, came alight, warming the chamber immediately. Ian was surprised to see it was furnished. Now, he knew it wasn't carpeted with expensive rugs, or shelved with books, or hung with colored lamps before. There were no exotic knickknacks and devices here and there, nor were there overstuffed armchairs, and there certainly wasn't an easel standing with a half-finished canvas upon it. And, there was absolutely no woman stretched out across a divan, antique robes dangling down to the floor.

"Welcome, my son," she said in that low, musical tone. "The others are safe, if that is your concern; they have their own path. But you, I have summoned to me." Her hair hung just past her shoulders, one gentle wave breaking its straight fall. It was blonde, with a reddish sheen, but it glittered as though there were individual strands of gold mixed in. Her eyes were a wise gray, with specks of violet, more vibrant and alive than any human eyes Ian had ever seen. "You, I have selected as mine." She rose from the couch, and walked over to him. The woman took his face in her hands. "Let me see . . . Ah." She smiles, and her aristocratic beauty becomes softer. "Perfect. And perfect that you should come to me now."

Ian merely stared, stunned that her hands had a warmth to him, baffled by her presence, and the existence of this chamber. "But, who are you?"

She smiled again, and laughed, that melodic, low sound with almost no condescension for him, but the potential therein. "I am Wolfsbane, my child."

"You mean-?" Ian began, his eyes going wide. "You're-"

"Yes," she said, almost purring. "I am Wendigo Wolfsbane. This . . .is my material home, where I can most easily manifest for you."

"But . . ." Ian began in confusion, "Why would you 'manifest' for me?"

"Because," she said in that dulcet voice, "we need each other. I need your services, and you need my strength and guidance."

Ian shook his head. "For school?"

She gave him an amused stare. "Now, young one, we know your mind seeks for more than grades," she said, tracing the line of his jaw with her finger. She turned about, sweeping her arm across his field of view. "This . . .this is where I am now. But you-you are in the world." She turned back toward him and smiled. "I have chosen you."

"Wait," Ian said, his shock fading into curiosity. "I have so much to ask you." He stopped for a moment, thinking, and realized he had no specific question. He'd had no time to think about this unexpected scenario.

"Well," Wendigo Wolfsbane said, "I would expect no less, but there will be time for all of that. For now, I merely wanted to see you, and to open your heart to your mission."

"Which is?"

"To become great, and for greatness in all things strive." And there was a hard look in her beautiful eyes. "To purify all for the purpose of aesthetics, truth, and perfection. To make clean and beautiful a world that has become filthy and muddled."

He was not too young to catch the subtext of her remarks. "I could never have that much power, Wendigo."

And she smiled widely. "But you will. You already do-it is just not developed yet." She turned to a small fire, seemingly carved out of the reality of the cave wall, and stoked the flames, staring at the whirlwind of ember and ash that rose from the blaze. "You will become . . ." she said, motioning at the pattern of shadow on stone, "greater than the Dark Lord . . . His followers will grovel at your feet, begging to bask in your malevolent glory." She allowed herself to sink into one of the armchairs by the fire, motioning for Ian to take the other.

He sat with hesitation, wanting to remain respectful of this miraculous woman. She was quite tall, he realized; even seated, her height rivaled his own - and Ian was short by no stretch of the imagination. He cleared his throat. "Greater than . . . really?"

Wendigo nodded, pouring him a goblet of blood-red wine. "Greater than Voldemort, greater than Grindewald, greater than Millicia, greater than them all. The power of all dark gods will be at your back. You were born for this purpose."

"What?" Ian said, taking the wine she offered and sipping at it . . . It was largely immaterial, but social rituals had their purposes too.

"This is where I must tell you . . . Your life is not, nor has ever been, your own." She stared catlike at him from behind the rim of her own goblet. "All born to true greatness or supremacy must suffer the consequences of divine ordinance."

Ian shook his head . . . He wasn't sure he was ready for this. He licked his lips, half in hunger, yet also partly in fear. "I cannot carry this mantle," he told her, with a quick shake of his head.

"Fool!" she snapped, losing patience for a moment. "That is like saying the sun cannot rise come morrow - it will happen, whether you believe it can or not . . . It is fact, the way of things." Wolfsbane settled a bit, and offered Ian another smile.

Without warning, she sat up, looking almost afraid . . . Not for herself, it seemed, but more akin to the fear a mother has for her child. "He comes!" she hissed. "And you will bind him in the end, but for now you are not ready. We must sever this connection!" And she stood, already seeming to be fading into a translucent memory. "Chosen, we will speak again . . . take care!" The warm chamber cooled around him, flame hardening into rock, décor deadening into blank stone. Ian tried to find a last word, to work one more question, but the time was gone. He looked around at the cave, which had returned to its original form. The exit was visible once again. He shuddered a little; the air was even colder, if that was possible, which he would never have thought possible. _I'd better hightail it on outta here_, he thought, backing out of the cave, wary and alert as any good Wolfsbane always was, especially in unfamiliar and potentially dangerous situations. He reluctantly turned his back to the darkened chamber so he could face the hallway.

Ian began his way back through the snaking tunnels, trying to mark the way here in his mind, for he erroneously assumes that the way is set for every journey. He heard noises from down a corridor, and raised his wand, ready for any surprises.

Malakai and Jade appeared, dragging Tyler between them, one grasping each arm. The young Wolfsbane was sheet-white, but there was a new light in his eyes . . . a trace of thrilled satisfaction. He pulled away from the two older boys and sneered at Ian.

"And where have you been?" Tyler demanded scornfully. "Crying to mother over your tummy ache?"

Ian shook his head, stepping forward, wand still raised. "Don't talk to me like that, Dias, you know nothing."

"Are you joking?" Tyler said with a cool laugh. "I know so much more than I did before . . . I know things that would curl your hair and freeze your heart." And he laughs, not so much a happy sound. "While you rested, I was touched by what is buried here." He looked at Ian, and there was definitely a new light in his eyes, a new shade to his aura. Tyler took three long strides towards Ian, meeting his eyes. "You have no idea the things I know . . ." he told him with just the tiniest hint of a shiver.

Ian opened his mouth to speak, and couldn't come up with words to explain his own experience. He only stood there for a moment, slack-jawed, until Jade and Malakai brought their candles close to his face.

"His eyes . . ." Jade said, with a stunned expression. Malakai nodded.

"So," the oldest Wolfsbane said, "you, too, have been marked." He smiled, and nodded to Jade again. "We should go before we wear out our welcome . . . It is nearly breakfast, anyway, and we don't want to be seen on the return."

Ian and Tyler looked at each other, both searching faces for the outward signs of inward change. They followed the senior students from the cave, marching in silence to the bluff, climbing down into the boat. The air here was warm, and coats were quickly cast aside. Malakai and Jade watched, relaxed and comfortable, as Tyler and Ian broke a sweat rowing them back across the channel.

As they made their way to Knockwood proper, students were already beginning to throng towards the castle, driven by hunger. Jade spotted a pack of Aeridorns, and headed off to meet them, waving back at the little trio of Wolfsbanes. Malakai quickly found a group of older students, and Tyler and Ian were left on their own as they made their way in through the great double doors of the castle, pushing into the Great Hall. As he and Tyler took their seats at the Wolfsbane table, set with a black and red cloth, Ian looked around for Killy.

Candy came running up to him. "IAN!!" she shrieked happily, sitting next to him and nearly knocking over a plate of scrambled eggs. "You made it! The party didn't do you in, then . . . There were so many cool people. You should have seen what Hillary Wiermanz did after you left. It was worse than me. Okay, she had this beer, and Colba was telling a joke . . . It wasn't a very good joke, but at least she tried, you know? I think it had something to do with a baby and a barrel, I don't really remember, because it wasn't that funny, like I said. And then there was the whole other thing, about Hillary. Which was . . . Oh YEAH!" she shrieked, her incessant gabbing almost frightening to Ian. "So Hillary is drinking a beer, and when Colba gets to the punch line, she inhaled about half of it." Candy takes a deep breath. "So you would think it went out of her nose, right? Like with milk? And it did, but it foamed, so she looked like a rabid dog. It was pretty funny, too bad you missed it. I think everyone forgot about me tripping after that, which is a good way to start my school here . . .NOT!"

Ian only rolls his eyes so she can't see, and puts some wheat toast on a plate with a scoop of eggs, scrambled with vegetables. He looked at Tyler helplessly.

"You guys aren't saying much. Hey, who are you anyway?" Candy asked Tyler.

He looked at her helplessly. "Tyler Dias . . ." Tyler glared at Ian, silently begging him to get rid of her.

Ian shrugged, unable to do anything. He took a bite of the eggs, tuning out Candy's voice as best he could while trying not to laugh at Tyler's expression. The eggs were vile and he pushed them away, using this as an excuse to escape Candy. "I suppose I'd better go track down something edible; if this is the usual offerings I'll be cooking in the dorm kitchen." He grabbed his coat off the chair; the day had grown warm and he needed to take it back to his dorm. "I'll see you later, then." Ian's steps were hurried as he cast a sympathetic smile back at Tyler, amused by the situation and wondering what Tyler would do left alone with the garrulous Everard.


End file.
